IRENIC

 «‚We find our way back to each other, always have, always will.‘ Isn’t that what you used to think? What’s changed?»

PROLOGUE

Keahi

“Keahi! Get up here!”

Right. Retreat.

I turn, my eyes instantly finding the same striking blue ones they’ve been seeking out since I was eleven years old.

Malia.

She’s already at the top of the valley. Safe. Splattered with blood, but away from the dwindling fighting. I force my legs to move faster, to get me to her, close enough that I can feel for myself that she’s really fine. That we can somehow both be fine after this atrocity of a battle.

All that blood. Blood I spilled. So many bodies on the ground. So many body parts on the ground.

“Look out!”

Wystan’s urgent words break through my scattered thoughts. I whirl, my gaze finding my partner’s, then follow their line of sight to my right.

Ghosts. Two of them, less than a foot away.

My instincts scream at the sight of the enemy’s drawn sword––Block!––but before I can lift my own blade, his runs me through.

The world halts. My sword arm twitches with the lingering instinct to fight, but then the hilt slips from my grip without command. I look down at myself. At the hilt of the Ghost’s sword, the blade buried in my gut, his bloody hand pushed all the way up against my black uniform.

Deep. Too deep.

I raise my gaze to the owner of the blade and find… a boy? My own shock is reflected on his young face, like he’s just as surprised by how easily he’s ended my life as I am. He startles, as if scared of having my gaze on him, and yanks his sword out of me as swiftly as he shoved it in.

The next second, I’m weightless. Falling. Or tumbling, rather, though I barely feel the sharp rocks and protruding roots dig into me when I land on them. It feels like I’m moving forever, the world turning in a haze of orange, swirling autumn trees accompanying my descent.

Pretty, I think. But not what I’d wish my last sight to be.

Right on cue, I hear her voice. My personal angel, who I once thought was escorting me to the afterlife, sounding so agonized now as she screams my name. Or maybe not my name? No… She’s screaming for help. Help for me. I try to locate the source of the sound, try to turn my head and see her. I need to show her it’s okay. That I don’t mean to leave her. That I don’t want to be another person to cause her pain.

But my head won’t turn. Won’t even flinch in Malia’s general direction so I might see her one last time. She screams again, the sound so full of anguish that my slowing heart gives a yearning lurch. I want to soothe her. Take the sorrow away.

Get to her! my mind screams.

But I can’t. I may not be able to feel the pain of my wound, my body having gone straight from shock into shutting down so I never feel the torn flesh, but I know it’s there.

Another more desperate plea for help spears me through the chest. If I could move a single muscle, I’d make my way up the hill even with my face in the mud, but crawling to Malia is nowhere near the realm of possibility.

Her voice fades out––or maybe it’s my ears that stop registering the sound?––and I’m left lying there, blinking up at the vibrantly colored leaves. A few rays of sunlight beam through the gaps. Is it midday? Or later? How long have we been fighting?

That thought seems to wash away the last of my strength, bringing back the feeling of weightlessness. The leaves start shifting, then blurring in my view. I try to blink to keep them in focus. To stay with Malia. But if she’s still screaming for me, I can no longer hear it, and without her immediate presence to keep me anchored, I stand no chance against the darkness overtaking my vision.

They say that your past flashes before your eyes in your last moments, but it’s the future that appears to me. Flickers of how today should have gone rush through my mind: Of taking Malia home. Of showing her the furniture I bought to surprise her, to show her just how much I wanted my house to be our space. For it to be her first real home.

A home she chose.

With me.

The hues of orange disappear behind the final curtain of darkness, shutting out the last traces of life with one lingering thought…

I’m sorry, princess.